Practice
by GraveDigger Resurrection
Summary: Post-Unbearable. In which Greg’s breakfast is interrupted by Grissom and his date...who isn’t Sara. Ticked off, our favorite ex-lab tech takes matters into his own hands, finding an answer thats more than a little surprising. GSR


**Title: **Practice  
**Categories: **Humor, General, and some fluffy stuff, I guess.  
**Rating:** PG-13 for language  
**Pairing: GSR FOREVER! **And no, that is NOT Grissom/Sofia! You people make me ill!  
**Spoilers:** Post-Unbearable  
**Disclaimer: **If they were mine, I'd take Sofia's face and...but they aren't so why continue?  
**Dedicated: **To all the awesome Post-Unbearable stories coming out, In particular CSINut24's and ScullyAsTrinity's. You all rock my world, and I'm sorry to ruin the pool of stories with this piece of crap.  
**A/N:** I have never cursed so profoundly at the television in my entire life. I really wanted CSI to be real, so I could GO AND KICK GRISSOM'S SORRY ASS. This idea struck me while I was in the shower later Thursday night, and it made me feel better, so I'm giving it to you, in hopes it makes you feel better too. Read On, and Enjoy!

**Summary:** Post-Unbearable. In which Greg's breakfast is interrupted by Grissom and his date...who isn't Sara. Ticked off, our favorite ex-lab tech takes matters into his own hands, and discovers the real motive behind Grissom's latest stupid move, which just might not be so stupid after all. (Grissom/Sara)

* * *

Greg Sanders was simply minding his own business. Really, he was. But, since Greg always _was_ good at multi-tasking, he was also attempting to mind the business of the hot redhead who was getting his eggs. As she set down his steaming plate (home fries, bacon, and 2 eggs sunny-side up, of course) he decided it was time to turn on "the old Sander's charm".

"Well, good morning, beautiful!" His grin was met with a very loud crackle of gum, and a stare from the redhead that was somewhere between disgusted and amused. But, still, Greg was sure the amusement was winning out, and that _definitely_ counted for something.

"House Breakfast?" She asked, with a glance towards his plate to confirm the order.

He gave his irresistible shrug/nod, a patent move in the 'Sander's Guide on How to Get a Chick to Look Twice' (Also used as an instruction book for fixing cars and household plumbing, and known for its reputation as a sturdy, yet tasteful paperweight) "You got it, Gorgeous." Greg glanced at the runny eggs, undercooked bacon, and unseasoned potatoes, and decided he truly _was_ bored enough to continue. "But..." he sighed, trailing off and looking up at her with dark brown puppy-dog eyes.

The snort was unencouraging, but it was laughter nonetheless. "_What_ do you need?"

"Well...you see, I have this little problem." He sighed again, wondering when he'd been reduced to hitting on un-interested waitresses. Oh well! "I've...well...I've lost my number. Can I have yours?" He smiled winningly, and waited.

Red took one cautious look around her, determined no one important was watching, then smacked him sharply over the head with her notebook, flipping him the bird, and stalking off in something of a huff. And suddenly, Greg was left with nothing but a sore noggin, and his own business to mind, which was quite frankly mindless and utterly unbusinesslike.

When the bell above the diner door jangled, he thought nothing of it, absently making a sculpture out of his food, and wondering if he could call Warrick and Nick and have them over to play some PS2. The shift change was absolutely no good. Greg thought it was stupid, damaging to the members of the old night-shift, and sheer hell on his nearly non-existent social life. And that Sofia bitch...God, what a nut-job.

Lost in his brooding thoughts, Greg really didn't notice the two newest occupants of the diner, smiling and laughing as they took there seat in the booth across from him. In fact, he was so busy contemplating how everything had hit the fan so quickly, he might never have noticed the flirtatious couple at all, except that Red came over to take their drink orders. Greg's eyes followed long, luscious legs up to a tight grey skirt showcasing a prize piece of booty, and finally came to rest happily on the generous cleavage shown with a button-down white blouse. Until, that is, he realized just who was providing the background for the would-be perfect scene.

"_Grissom?_" The boss of the Las Vegas Crime Lab Graveyard shift glanced at Greg as he finished his order, smiling at the redhead as she wrote it down. She sent Greg an altogether nasty look as she passed, and again, he sighed. "Hey Griss, what's up?" Greg thought maybe this would be a good chance for him to talk with Grissom for a while, maybe get the man to see him as the competent CSI Greg knew he could be, with a little practice. A glance at his plate had him thinking that maybe bacon statues wasn't the best way to start.

"Oh, hey Greg." But it wasn't Grissom's mouth that moved. Greg searched around frantically for the source, unhappy with the results.

"Er...Sofia." His gaze was drawn down to the intertwined hands on the table before snapping back up to his boss and coworker. Somewhere in the back of Greg's mind, a tiny, red-hot flame was sparked. "You guys here to talk over the case? A real nut job, the step-mom, huh?" Another glance at Grissom's hand casually linked with Sofia's and the flame began to spread. Yeah. The case. He looked at Sofia's slightly smirking face, and Grissom's smile, and bit his cheek so hard he drew blood. Yeah freaking right.

"Yes, you did good work on that Greg-" Grissom began, and Greg found some solace in the compliment until it was cut off by Sofia, who was obviously uninterested in small talk.

"No Greg, we're on a date."

A date. A _date_. Rage was welling up within him, but Greg could not figure out why. A date, so what? Grissom deserved a life, and if he could find it with Sofia, well...so what? "A date, huh?" He found himself glaring at his boss, daring him to confirm the fact.

Grissom blinked twice, very rapidly, shifted slightly, and then...nodded. "Yes, Greg. Sofia and I are on a date."

_Sofia and I_. Something was not right there. Something in that statement made Greg so furious he could hardly think straight. _Sofia and I...Sofia and I...Sofia..._ and, like the redhead's notebook, the answer struck Greg with agitated force.

_That was the wrong name._

"Oh!" He smiled weakly. "That's...nice." The smile leaked off his face like the flavor out of weak tea, and Grissom and Sofia gave polite nods before turning away from him, and immersing themselves in their own giggle-filled conversation, leaving Greg with only one coherent thought.

What. the. _fuck?_ What the hell was this? Grissom was on a date. Surprising enough, but sort of cool that he was finally coming back out of his shell. Grissom was on a date with Sofia. Weird, and totally wrong, but still Grissom's choice and not a problem. Grissom was on a date with a subordinate. Nice to see he was finally sorting out his priorities. Grissom had broken his strict moral code for a blonde skank who talked to herself. And who was most certainly not Sara...

_What. The. **Fuck.**_

Greg was confused, yes, but mostly he was pissed off. Over the past months, Greg's long-lasting crush on Sara had morphed into an admiring sort of sibling-relationship. Of course he still flirted tactlessly with her, but he'd done that with _rocks_ before, so it didn't mean anything. Sara was not only the only one at work who stood up for his chance to be a CSI, she was also the most dedicated, good-hearted friend Greg had, and that was saying something.

Sara Sidle definitely deserved to be happy. Something about her told Greg her childhood had been shit, and the rest of her life probably had been too. And the way Greg saw it, all she's ever done about it was fight harder for victims than anyone else ever would. What was wrong with that? The way Greg saw it...nothing.

Sara had a thing for Grissom. They all knew it, and they all secretly supported it. After all, it was obvious Grissom felt the same way, if not more so about her. They knew of no one else Grissom would call to Vegas for an internal investigation. Greg didn't think Grissom would ever trust anyone the way he did Sara. Look at anyone, talk to or laugh with anyone the way they did together, even if things had been strained lately. A chuckle drifted over to him from the opposite table, and his hands curled into fists of their own volition.

Greg had taken lot of shit from Grissom over the years, truth be told. He'd always admired the man, been rather in awe of him at first, even. And not once had Greg taken a stand against him. Not once.

_Sofia and I_. Not Sara. _Not_ the right answer. But Greg had never stood up for himself with Grissom, and he wasn't about to start now. Oh no, Greg Sanders wasn't going to stand up for himself.

He was going to stand up for Sara.

"Uh, hey, Grissom, could I talk to you?" The words were out of his mouth before he fully registered them.

Sofia stopped mid-mindless babble, and gave him a disgusted look, which he ignored except to fuel it to the fire burning his brain up. Grissom didn't look too pleased either. "What do you need, Greg?"

Uh..."I need to talk to you about work." Greg frowned, checking it over in his head. Yeah, it was passable. _Stupid_, but passable.

"Then can we take care of it at _work?_" Grissom's cool gaze and arched brow almost threw Greg off. Almost, but not quite. For Sara.

"Uh, no, it can't. It's...it's serious Grissom. I have to talk to you." Silence. "_Now._"

Greg was glad to see the flicker of concern on his boss's face even as he heaved a sigh and gave an apology to Sofia, who twirled her hair and smiled coyly. "What it is it, Greg?"

"We can't talk about it here." Well, they _could_, but Sofia had some damn long nails, and Greg liked his face in the arrangement it came in, thank you very much.

An exasperated huff of air left Grissom, and he closed his eyes for a long moment. "Then _where_ do we need to talk about it, Greg?"

Gooood question! "Uh, let's...uh, go sit over there," he pointed at an empty booth at the other side of the diner, throwing Sofia a 'what-can-you-do' smile. "I don't want to detract from more than one person's enjoyment of breakfast if I can help it," he said by way of false apology, with a little shrug. He was sure as hell planning on taking all the fun out of the date for Grissom, but why spoil it for the bitch as well? She couldn't help being such a wart on the face of the crime lab. In response, Sofia turned her nose up and stopped twirling her hair.

"Alright...let's go." Grissom sounded wary, but he followed his newest CSI across the diner and slid into the opposite booth bench, facing Greg. The ex-lab rat wondered how long it would take for his new-formed ulcer to eat away the lining of his stomach and let him bleed out. Watching as Grissom removed his glasses and settled back in his seat, Greg hoped it was soon. "What do you need?"

Answers. He wanted _answers._ And Greg was going to get them, by God. And possibly get fired and/or beat up while he was at it. But, the way he saw it, Grissom was getting on in years, and a little thick around the middle, so he probably wouldn't be able to do much more than make Greg bleed...profusely. Well, his blood clotted fast, anyway. "What the _hell_ are you doing?"

The expression of surprise on Grissom's face was almost amusing, but the confusion he saw there made more hot anger rise up and spread throughout Greg's entire body. "What do you mean, Greg?"

Trying to get his mouth to work again, Greg wondered if he'd be that socially retarded when he was Grissom's age, and promptly vowed to shoot himself first. "What do I _mean?_ I _mean_ what the _hell_ do you think you're _doing,_ Grissom?" A blink, but no other sign of recognition. "Sofia! Griss, what the hell? You're on a date with _Sofia_?" Greg's clenched fists settled on the table with stinging force.

Grissom, for his part, cleared his throat, and nodded, frowning. "Yes, Greg. That's correct. What exactly does this have to do with work?"

Well, the idiot walked right into that one. "Isn't there a non-fraternization policy between Employers and their subordinates?"

Grissom's uncharacteristic fidget had Greg smirking inside. "It's just dinner, Greg."

"It's a date."

"Yeah, OK, it's a date where we are having _dinner_. It's not like it's going to stop the world, Greg." The disapproval in his voice made Greg want to take a swing at him.

Instead, he opted for the next best thing. "Oh, ok then. So, will you go on a date with me Friday night?"

Grissom spluttering was definitely top-notch comedy. "_What?_ No!" Grissom's gaze spun frantically around the room before looking at Greg again. "No! I..._No!_"

"Why? It's not like it would stop the world or anything." Papa Olaf would be so proud. When Greg was little, he'd listened to his grandfather say, many a time- well, it was a lot of Yiddish gibbering that Greg couldn't repeat, really, but what it _meant_ was 'Your most powerful weapon is always your enemy's own words.'

Watching Grissom's normally impassive face contort spectacularly, the only thing Greg could think was:_ damn straight!_

By this time, Grissom had apparently regained enough of his basic motor functions to speak. "Greg, I'm...I'm f-flattered, really, but...uh...I don't...er..._swing_ that way...uh..."

Greg choked back a laugh. The man was really too easy. "That's good, because neither do I."

"Then why–"

"Well, Mia will be happy. She's been planning on asking you out for months now, and now that you're available and affirmatively straight I'm sure she'll finally go for it."

"What? I...but...Greg..." Grissom was tugging at his collar now, and his face was shiny with sweat.

"What, will you turn her down or something, Grissom?"

"_Yes!_" It was said so forcefully that Greg felt that Mia would have been insulted, had she not just said the other day after a particularly bad run in with the boss, that if they were the last two people alive, she'd kill him, dissect the body, and hide the pieces just for fun.

"I don't get it. Why?" There really was a reason Greg let people think he was stupid. It was just so much damn fun to mess with their heads.

A sigh answered him. "I have no feelings for her, Greg. I wouldn't be able... what does this have to do with work?"

So he had feelings for _Sofia?_ He had a flame for The Thing That Crawled Out Of Ecklie's Ass? What a fucking _moron!_ "So you're sure it's not the supervisor/subordinate thing?"

"_Yes_ Greg."

"When did that change?"

Grissom appeared to consider this question. "Work is not always the best basket in which to put all your eggs."

"Ecklie pissed you off that bad, huh?"

Owie! That glare was _not_ a nice thing! "Greg–"

"Right, sorry." Greg shrugged, his mind running furiously, and his anger still on edge. "So, you and Sofia, huh?" He waggled his eyebrows playfully, to cover the venom. "I never would have guessed you had a thing for her, Grissom. But hey–"

"I don't have a 'thing' for her, Greg."

"But you're on date with her."

"Yes."

"But you won't go out with Mia because you don't have feelings for her?"

"Uh..." The cross-eyed expression of befuddlement was a good look for Grissom.

Greg set up the smack-down. "Hey, don't sweat it man, I don't care. But, what would you do if someone you _did_ have feelings for asked you out?"

Grissom had to blink a few times to refocus his gaze, his jaw still rather slack. "What?"

"Well, I'm just wondering how you divide up your dinner offers. You don't have feelings for Mia, so you wont go out with her, you don't have feelings for Sofia, but here you are on a date. What if Catherine asked you out to dinner? I mean, I know you don't have romantic feelings for her, so would you say yes?"

"Of course, Greg, she's my frien–" He paused, and seemed to reconsider. "Well, we've been out to dinner plenty of times before, and it wouldn't mean anything. "

"Ok. So what if someone you had feelings for asked you out? Would you accept? Or say no? I'm just a little confused Griss." _'That, and I want to beat you down for being such a bastard to my friend.'_

A certain vibe in the air let Greg know his boss was getting irritated. "Get to the point, would you Greg? I have a date to get back too." They glanced simultaneously over at Sofia, who was muttering rapidly at the table as she clutched a fork in her hand.

"Er...you're date...right."

"Greg! Talk, or leave me be, because–"

"I'm thinking you'd say no."

"Huh?"

"To the person you had feelings for. If they asked you out, I mean." Greg had perfected the art of baited nonchalance years ago, and was pulling out all the stops this morning.

Grissom looked mildly insulted by this. "Why would you think that?"

Hook, line, and... "Well, I mean, Sara asked you out once, and you shot her down without a second thought." Sinker.

Now, in the five minutes Greg spent formulating this plan, he had come up with about a dozen responses from Grissom, three of which involved bodily harm. The answer he got was number eight. "How did you hear about that?"

"Sara mentioned it in passing once, after I got turned down by some chick. Consolation I guess." At Grissom's intensely violent look of jealousy, Greg rushed to clarify. "She's a good friend. We try to be there for each other."

The older man eased off a bit, instead regarding Greg with a shuttered expression. "Is that what you're doing now, Greg?"

Damn straight. "I guess. I mean, I don't get it, Grissom. You shoot Sara down like that, and here you are chatting it up with Sofia." Here, Grissom opened his mouth to respond, but Greg's anger was still strong, and he wasn't finished yet. "I mean, everyone gets that you're socially inept, but I had no clue you were that freaking _stupid!_"

"Greg!" The warning was clear, and Greg didn't give a damn.

"Grissom! Come on, man, explain it to me! You owe that much! Explain to me how you can turn away the best thing that's ever happened to you, the best person _I've_ ever met! Explain to me how you can say 'no' that coldly, and then turn around go out with Ecklie's whore! I mean, fine, the Lady Heather thing, you were doing your mid-life crisis or...or _experimenting _or whatever–"

"_Greg!"_

"–Hey, I don't care! Whatever! Sara's obviously forgiven you, so I guess the rest of us followed suit. But _this?_ What happened to your strict moral policy, huh, Grissom? What about staying uninvolved with, well, with _everyone, _but subordinates in particular? What, so it applies to Sara, who you _do_ have a thing for, but not to Sofia?" It was at this point Greg realized breathing really was a necessary function, and had to pause to allow oxygen back to his brain.

A now equally angry Grissom jumped at the pause. "Greg, I don't really think it's your place to say any of this to me–"

Breath taken. "You know what, Grissom, you're right! It should probably be Catherine sitting here, or Brass, or hell, even Nick or Warrick! But they aren't here, because apparently they don't give two craps about what you're doing, and what a freaking _asshole _you're being, and Sara isn't here either- who's the _real_ one who ought to beat the holy shit out of you, by the way- because she's got too much class to take you by the balls and–" At the violent motion Greg made with his hand, Grissom felt 'the boys' try to crawl up into his lower intestines reflexively. He shifted nervously, and remained silent.

Greg was running out of steam, and it was time to make his point. "So I'm here, Grissom. _I'm_ here to find out why you keep fucking with Sara, and now you're going to go and _really _fuck that blonde skank! _Why? _And no, that _isn't_ a rhetorical question."

In the silence that followed, Greg thought about his life, and all the good things he'd done. This was possibly the boldest, and perhaps kindest, and he could probably die with a clear conscience now...he just wished he _wasn't_ about to die. He even wondered what they'd put on his headstone, and hoped Grissom didn't get to pick.

"She called me emotionally unavailable."

The hoarse mumble caught Greg off guard. Truth was, he'd never actually expected to get _any_ sort of tangible response from Grissom except perhaps his employment termination papers. He'd simply wanted to say his piece, and this latest turn of events caught him off guard. He stared guardedly at the man before him, who was gazing intently at the floor. "Who, Sofia?"

Grissom shook his head, and rested both arms on the table, leaning his chin on his steepled fingers. "Sara. Sara did."

Floating in uncharted (and unbelievable) territory, Greg scrambled to keep up. "She did? When?"

The replying shrug was almost petulant. "A few weeks ago, right after she got suspended. We were talking and she...well...I got to thinking. And I realized she was right."

"Uh...Grissom, not to be mean or anything, but...duh."

Here, Greg received a nod. "I...well after the shift change I'd already realized...I was being..."

"An ass?"

A mild frown. "Well, foolish at any rate. But Sara, I...she..."

"You hurt her, Grissom, and she's finally learned and started just being your employee." Grissom's affirmative nod showed Greg the light. "Just when you'd decided to stop being a royal–" the glare returned. "–er, sorry. Anyway, you were ready to give it a try, and she finally gave up."

"Yes." The one word was spoken as if everything was explained, and Greg felt his exhausted anger attempt to return, managing a comeback as severe annoyance.

"So, what, you've just given up, and moved on to _Sofia_? That's shit, Grissom! That's–"

"No! No, that's not it!" Grissom held up his hands, and Greg managed to bite off the rest of his sentence and fall silent, waiting as his boss took another deep breath to continue. "I...she said I was emotionally unavailable."

She apparently forgot to mention babbling idiot. "Yeah, I got that, Grissom. And it explains precisely jack sh-"

"–So I'm practicing." He stared intensely at Greg, as though willing he lightbulb to go on, but apparently someone couldn't find the switch.

"...practicing?"

Now Grissom nodded, eagerly. "Yeah. I figured the only way to learn how to be more..._available_ was to..."

_Ding!_ The light flashed on, and Greg had his own epiphany. "–Practice!" _'Holy shit!'_

"Precisely." Greg was impressed. Not only had he pegged Grissom wrong, but the man was actually trying to do right by Sara. A sudden thought derailed his train of thought, however.

"With _Sofia?_" They both looked over at her again, to find the aforementioned bitch grinning salaciously at a very bald, buff man who was entering the diner. Grissom sighed.

"I thought it would be best to start with a somewhat insignificant person, and work my way up."

Greg choked on a snort of laughter, grinning. "Insignificant, huh?"

Here, Grissom attempted to look severe, but failed. "I meant...well..." He blinked. "No...that's what I meant. Stop laughing! She's quitting anyway, so I felt obligated to do something for her, since Ecklie was such a...well. From there I figured I'd work my way up to the rest of the team, and Swing Shift, and then, when I'm better at it, I can beg Sara for another chance."

Greg's wild laughter screeched to a sputtering stop. God, this was too good to be true! She was leaving, Grissom was getting his head out of his ass, and Sara suddenly had a shot at getting what she deserved! "Wow."

He got a nod in return, and the two men fell into a brief, collective silence. Finally, Grissom gave another sigh, and said softly, "I have to practice, because I have to do it right when it counts. I can't screw this up again, Greg. I know I've already done it too many times. I can't...I can't let Sara down again."

Greg couldn't recall the last time he was struck dumb. "Holy shit, man, you're serious." At Grissom's determined nod, Greg sat up straighter, pointing a finger at his supervisor. "You need a lot of practice, Griss, you got that? Because if you fuck it up with Sara again, I'll kick your ass."

"And then I'll fire you."

Greg shrugged off his pointed look. "I mean it, Grissom. Sara, well...I...I love her like a sister, and, and...she deserves to be happy."

Grissom's response was a whisper. "Yeah."

"Just...just don't fuck it up."

"I'm doing everything I can to prevent that from happening. Otherwise, I assure you...Sofia and I...well..." Grissom winced a little and trailed off.

Greg grinned, and leaned in conspiratorially. "Dude, how do you _stand_ her?"

He watched in amazement as a flush crept up Grissom's neck, turning his ears a bright red. The older man leaned in with Greg as well, and said rather embarrassedly, "I...well...I pretend I'm talking to Sara." He winked as Greg let out a hoot of laughter, both leaning back in their seats in a newfound easy comradery.

The silence that fell signaled the conversation's closing, and after a moment, Greg rose to his feet, mirroring Grissom. They regarded one another for a minute, and Greg broke out into a grin at the stupidity of the whole thing, Grissom proving his thought by grinning right back. There was an unspoken agreement between them that this would never be spoken of again, and both were fine with that. "Well..."

"Yeah." They turned and went back to their opposite booths, Sofia scowling unpleasantly at them both, and Red, the waitress was there as well, tapping her foot by Greg's table and waiting for his money.

"Sorry about stealing your man away, Sof, but I _really _needed to borrow the boss-man for a sec," Greg chirped as Grissom sat down.

"It was eleven minutes and 36 seconds, Greg, not _one_ second." Yeow! Greg flinched back a little from her seething look, eyeing her 2 inch nails in disfavor.

"I apologize, Sofia. It was my fault for keeping him. I actually needed some advice, and he needed a few things cleared up. I'm really sorry it interrupted our dinner, and I hope I can make it up to you." Grissom's sincere tone had Sofia's eyelashes fluttering and her hair a-twirling so busily once more that she missed the thumbs up Greg gave his boss, and the cocky smile he got in return.

_Apparently practice really **does** make perfect! _Greg had no idea Grissom was capable of being that smooth. Well, he was sure as hell gonna need it for Sara.

"Well, sorry again, but I'll be on my way now, to leave you two to do your thing!" He nodded at Sofia, who was, of course, ignoring him, and leaned down to Grissom briefly as he made to go face Red. "Another bit of my 'advice,' Grissom?" He muttered quietly, and Grissom barely nodded. "_Don't_ let Sara catch you while you're practicing."

Grissom looked at him for a moment with an arched brow, before muttering back, "No shit."

Grinning broadly, Greg made to turn away, but before he could, Grissom's voice, at a normal level now, stopped him. "Hey, Greg?"

"What's up, Boss-man?"

Grissom was silent for a moment, his blue eyes locked on Greg's form. "You're a good man, Greg. Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise." He seemed to ponder for a moment, before adding, "including me."

In response, Greg let out an exasperated huff. "Come on, Grissom, when are you gonna figure it out? I'm not good." He grinned. "I'm the best."

With that, he turned away from Grissom's eye-roll, to face his Red-headed free-spirit, turning on the charm again as she eyed him like something unpleasant on the sidewalk. "Sorry 'bout that, babe, but duty calls. I work for the crime lab, you know. Puttin' away bad guys to keep you safe."

"You don't say." Another loud snap of cracking gum followed and Greg winced, but as always, he was ready to give it one more try.

"Yeah. So, I guess you're here to give me your number, since I _still_ haven't found mine, eh gorgeous?"

"I want you to pay me, you dickless wonder." That's it! No more hitting on waitresses at crappy diners for Greg! Sofia's laughter broke through his silent rant, and Grissom's chuckle (which sounded pained, when you knew what you were listening for) accompanied it, sending a cringe through Greg's body. He dug a twenty out of his pocket, and shoved it at her, aware he was giving her a ten dollar tip, but just wanting to get the hell out of there.

"Thanks for breakfast." Turning, he was careful not to look at the 'Odd Couple' across from him as he marched resolutely towards the door. Indeed, he was so absorbed in the task, he didn't even notice the notepad, until it was too late.

"Ow!" He whirled around as the projectile stuck with stunning force, rubbing the sore spot on his head, to find Red smirking at him smugly. He glared at her, swearing quietly, and spun back away, looking down at the offending order-pad as he passed. Greg stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the message scrawled in black marker on the top page.

**_Call me. 555-9709 Rachel_**

A thrill of happiness shooting through him, he looked back, but Re- Rachel was already taking someone else's order, a wide smile now playing on her lips.

And so, the notepad in hand, he strode out of the building with a broad grin, and a final glance at a stoic Grissom and a clueless Sofia. Greg Sanders was leaving the little diner to find the nearest bar and get utterly hammered, while Grissom practiced for the real deal.

* * *

I either like it, or find it horrendously stupid. Tell me which one YOU think, and leave a review, please! For those wondering, My Sequel for 'New Ground' is in the works, but some plot problems are causing a delay. That, and the last few episodes have just sort of pissed me off. Peace out, and Thanks For Reading- GDR 


End file.
